


Toolbox

by CunningfolkApothecary (LordAmulu)



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Gen, Hints of nursey/dex, There is no inbetween, Threat of using an extremely long plank of wood as a makeshift catapult, because i see fleshing out someone's toolbox as a sign of affection, or deep seated rage at the lack of their toolbox, there is a betsy the oven tag and I am living
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-08
Updated: 2020-09-08
Packaged: 2021-03-06 19:07:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,081
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26353927
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LordAmulu/pseuds/CunningfolkApothecary
Summary: The thing about growing up with a family full of people who know how to fix stuff is that you’re used to the tools just… being there.
Comments: 1
Kudos: 49





	Toolbox

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this several years ago and have decided to finally upload here.

The thing about growing up with a family full of people who know how to fix stuff is that you’re used to the tools just… being there. 

Dex had grown up with pretty much everyone in his family, sisters and brothers alike, knowing how to fix everything from a flat tire to plumbing problems to electrical issues. The learning curve varied from manageable to smacking into a brick wall. Of course, it also leant itself to some rather hilarious and enduring family stories that are elaborated upon each family holiday. Nothing like bringing up the time Grandma decided to fix the hot water heater by herself and ended up singing off an eyebrow and part of her hairline. _Ah yes, good times._

The thing was, you just got used to always having what you needed on hand. Either an uncle or a brother or your older sister had whatever tool you needed when your own box was lacking. 

Here at Samwell? Well, you were lucky if one person in the hall had a hammer. You were lucky if one person in the building had a hammer worthy of the name ( and yes, he would argue up and down with every bro in the house that **hammers were not all the same** , _how could you say that_.) 

When Bittle had first come to him asking him to take a look at Betsy he’d been fine with the idea. Dex was always handy with appliances and electronics. If it wasn’t organic he was pretty good at fixing it ( _just please, never make him fix drywall again. It’s an exercise in devilry and sandpaper and paint. Never again_ ). 

What Dex hadn’t counted on was being without the tools needed to fix Betsy. 

Sure, he had his basic tools. Hammer. Screwdriver. Soldering kit with six types of solder. But he only had the one set of pliers, and they were the wrong sizes completely to strip the wires. Granted, he could have gone the route of his grand-da and just used his teeth, but he wasn’t particularly keen on shocking himself or, worse, getting chirped for it. Not only that, but it seemed half of his socket set had disappeared, along with his actual wire strippers and good god, he already knew who was responsible because she took his zip ties, too. He was going to murder his sister for raiding his toolkit again. ‘ _Sharing is caring_ ’ is such utter bullshit when you have siblings. 

“Sorry, Bits. Going to have to wait until later tonight before you can bake again.” Dex said, pulling away from the oven. He knew _what_ was wrong with her. It. Her. _Whatever_ , but he didn't have the tools. 

The look Bittle gave him was like looking at his neighbor's dog after it got hit in the face with a snowball when it thought it was getting tossed a regular ball. Shit. Okay. Maybe he could scrape together a few tools from a couple of his buddies to finagle the wiring a little. 

He watched Bittle's expression fall even further as he began packing up the baking supplies he had gotten out.

Scratch that, he’s going to go pick up some tools and flesh out his kit again. He’d need to, sooner or later. 

###### 

Dex let out a low sigh, the sound catching in the back of his throat as he looked over the tools in front of him. Chowder and Nursey had wandered off at some point whilst he debated over the finer points of ‘cost’ vs ‘actual ability to use the tools for their intended purposes.’ 

“So, just get a set.” A voice said, and Dex almost startled into dropping the tools in his hands. Ears burned as he glared at Nursey, who simply grinned at him, a chirp already forming. 

Dex decided to not give him the opportunity and simply put both tools back and started off down the aisle, picking up the basket that had the rest of his purchases in it. 

“Hey- aren’t you going to get, you know. The tools here? The… spinny turny things?” Nursey called out, jogging to catch up to him. Dex snorted. How the hell do you not know what a socket wrench is? 

“Can’t afford both. I can either get the tools I actually need to fix the oven…” Here he gestured at the basket. “… or a I could get set of socket wrenches back there, which, while useful aren’t immediately needed.”: Dex explained, looking around for Chowder. He heard some excited shouting over by the yard displays. He’s probably found an inflatable something-or-other. He sighs, feeling part of his soul sink into his socks and made his way over towards that side of the store. “Besides, I can make do with regular wrenches for the time being. Not hard, just requires a bit more flexibility.”

There was an amused snort from Nursey. “Yeah, Betsy is doomed. You’re about as flexible as plank of wood is” 

“Dude, seriously?" Dex said, " Have you ever swung an eight-by-two? You get a good sixteen-foot eight-by-two and you can practically use it like a catapult. Woods more flexible than you think.” 

Nursey looked at the long rows of planks of wood, an eyebrow raised as he appraised them. 

“Nah, bro. Don’t think so.” Nursey replied. Dex was about seventy percent sure it was solely to get a rise out of him.

“Listen, I’ve used them like that. Used to lob watermelons over the property line to see if we couldn’t hit-” Dex was interrupted by Chowder suddenly appearing, wearing either an inflatable yard shark or some brightly colored plastic sheeting. 

“Ohmygods, we should totally do that as a prank for the LAX frat.” 

“Chowder, no. That was a folly of- No. Super illegal. Could actually hurt a dude and-”

“Dex, chill-” 

That was about as civil as the night got before it devolved into a series of arguments about what would be acceptable to catapult into or against the rival frats’ house. 

###### 

Dex didn’t think too hard about the trip to the depot store until a few weeks later when he was pulling his toolkit from its place under the sink ( _it’s new home since it became abundantly clear that Betsy was going to be in need of some continuing hospice care, rather than precise surgery_ ). 

Inside lay the set of socket wrenches he had been eyeing, and, much to his mortification, a set of some of the worst screwdriver bits he’d ever seen.

**Author's Note:**

> I am drawing heavily on my own blue-collar family here. And the fact that Dex bickers like he has siblings.


End file.
